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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28822104">Polariod</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_james/pseuds/sasha_james'>sasha_james</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The TimSasha chronicles [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anger, Angst, Canon Universe, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Memories, Mentioned Not-Them Sasha James, Past Sasha James/Tim Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:01:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,524</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28822104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_james/pseuds/sasha_james</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Wait. A photo...a Polaroid? Did he take pictures that day? Where did he keep his Polariods?"</p><p>...</p><p>Tim reminisces, and plans his revenge.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sasha James/Tim Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The TimSasha chronicles [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775998</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Polariod</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Content warning: grief, violent thoughts, canon-death.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim hadn't been the same. </p><p>Not since they discovered that Not-Sasha was...well...not Sasha.</p><p>No, he hadn't been the same since before then, when Not-Sasha replaced his friend without him realizing. When "Sasha" suddenly was so cold and uninterested. When she broke his heart. </p><p>His usual indefatigable smile was replaced with anxieties and discomforts he didn't know he had. He felt alone, but didn't want to be around anyone. </p><p>And above all, he had been so confused. Why was Sasha acting so strange? He thought there was a spark between them. He thought they would be something more.</p><p>Then Not-Sasha came along. That thing... that monster.</p><p>Tim slammed his fist on his desk. He hadn't slept for a few days, not since Melanie revealed that Not-Sasha wasn't who they thought she was. He was perturbed by a singular thought racing through his mind, a thought that burned his heart and mind: What did his Sasha look like?</p><p>He stood up quickly, chair scraping against the cold cement floor. Martin peeked his head into the room. "Everything fine in here?" he asked.</p><p>Tim looks up at him and flips his hair out of his face. He rubs his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." He brushes his shirt smooth and quickly walks out of the room and down to the archive storage room, where Jon keeps all of his recordings and unsorted files.</p><p>He scans shelf after shelf, eyes bleary and head racing. He has to know. He needs to know. He lets his fingers trail along the spines of books and recordings, picking up dust. He rubs his fingers together, brushing off the dust.</p><p>Then he sees them. He doesn't remember moving towards them, but suddenly he held three recordings in his hands. On the spines of each in scribbley handwriting is written, "+SJ". Tapes with her voice. The real Sasha's voice... his Sasha's voice. How had he not seen these before?. He looks around, slides them into his pockets, and nonchalantly makes his way out of the archive room. </p><p>Tim's heart is soaring. A connection to the legitimate Sasha, finally. He had lost hope when Melanie couldn't properly describe to him what Sasha looked like, but his optimism was now restored. </p><p>He didn't work any more that day. He couldn't help remembering times he had with Sasha.</p><p>He remembers Sasha standing in his kitchen at ungodly hours of the morning, wine drunk and complaining about how she never remembered to bring pyjamas to his place when they’re drinking, even though she always ended up staying over.</p><p>He remembers how warm and comfortable he felt whenever he offered to let Sasha sleep in his bed with him, and how she would cuddle up to him in her sleep, wrapping her arms around him and holding him just tight enough to be comfortable.</p><p>He remembers how they would sit on the floor of one of their flats after being out drinking and play with each others hair and be overly touchy and affectionate.</p><p>He remembers how she would shriek and laugh and hit him lightly whenever he tried to slip her tongue when she innocently kissed him at work.</p><p>He only wishes he could remember her face.</p><p>Tim stands up, it's somehow 5:00 already. He pulls his large coat over his shoulders and heads out for the night out, not bothering to say his "goodbyes" and "see ya tomorrows" to his co-workers. He had to get home. His feet carried him to the car park without a thought, leading him past the rows and rows of snow-dusted vehicles and to his own car. Before he knew it, he was at his flat, turning the key to his door.</p><p>Slipping inside, Tim instantly rushes into his bedroom and begins rummaging through his dresser. He could have sworn...</p><p>No, he remembers it clearly. When Jon started using the tape recorders, Sasha got him a tape player. They planned to steal blank tapes and record themselves, and this way they'd have a way to play them. His real Sasha, that is. Not that horrid, corrupt, beast of a fraud.</p><p>Finally, Tim finds it. He pulls it out of the dresser, pulling out a shirt with it, but he doesn't care. He leaps onto his bed and shoves the tape recording into the player, hands shaking with excitement. He hesitates, finger hovering over the buttons, before hitting play. There was nothing else to lose at this point, no need being nervous.</p><p>The recorder clicks.</p><p>[Don't tell me you're recording.] Jon sounds exasperated as ever. What was the date on the tape?</p><p>[Of course, I'm recording!] Tim hears himself say. [I have to catch the birthday boy on his special day!] Ah, Jon's birthday! </p><p>[Whatever. What have you guys got planned, hm?]</p><p>[Now, now, it's a surprise, Jon!] Tim (from the past) laughs, and Jon sighs. [Besides, we have to wait until Sasha gets here for the celebration to start!]</p><p>Tim's heart quickens. Sasha... he hits the fast-forward button, impatient to hear her voice. The tape player whirrs as he slips ahead. He hits play.</p><p>[Jon, come on!] Martin says, urging Jon to come from his office. Tim must have handed him the tape recorder. [Sasha and Tim are waiting for you in the break room!]</p><p>[I'm coming, Martin, don't be so pushy.] The sound of a chair scooting across the floor can be heard. [I don't know why you all are making such a fuss, it's just my birthday...] </p><p>[Boss! Happy Birthday!] Tim hears himself say.</p><p>[Surprise!!!]</p><p>Tim's heart stops. "Sasha..." He rewinds the tape and plays it again.</p><p>[Surprise!!!]</p><p>Her voice...His Sasha's voice. It's so light, playful, happy. Sweet, melodic, beautiful. His fingers fumble on the buttons of the tape player.</p><p>[Surprise!!!] </p><p>How could he forget her? How could he let himself be brainwashed by that disgusting imposter...He lays down on the bed, and let's the tape continue.</p><p>[Sasha, what--]</p><p>[It's a cake, Jon! Made it myself, my mother's recipe.] </p><p>Tim's heart is twisted. He's so overwhelmingly happy: He's found her. But he's hurt, because there's so much he hasn't found. He hears her, he listens to her, he loves her. </p><p>A camera noise sounds in the recording, and Sasha makes an offended noise.</p><p>[Tim, are you taking pictures?] The sound of his name in her mouth was so sweet, and Tim was intoxicated by the sound.</p><p>[Well, yeah! I have to document this occasion! I didn't get a Polaroid for nothing.] She laughs, and Tim's eyes well with tears. A laugh so unfamiliar, yet so comforting.</p><p>Wait. A photo...a Polaroid? Did he take pictures that day? Where did he keep his Polariods? Tim flies out of the bed, and yanks open his closet doors. Digging through the bottom of it, he finds his boxes with old photos. If his Polariods were anywhere, they'd be in one of these.</p><p>Tim opens the box, and sees the first image on top. A picture he took with Sasha on a group outing to the bar down the street. No, that was Not!Sasha. And that was their last group outing, before their group was torn apart. Angrily, Tim throws the photo aside, watching as it drifts lazily across the room.</p><p>"God...they have to be here somewhere..." he murmurs to himself, sifting through photos from all sorts of times. Why didn't he organize these better? </p><p>He had heard that Polariods were the only photos unaffected by the Stranger. Rummaging through the box, this myth seemed likely, as every non-Polaroid he saw had that horrid, horrid face. The face of a monster, disguised as an angel. </p><p>Upon pulling another box from his closet, a small, manilla folder falls out. He stops, and looks at it. The outside is labelled. "Jon's B-day, 2016". His breath catches in his throat, and he picks up the folder, afraid it will vanish in his grasp. He gently opens the tab and slides them out.</p><p>Tim pulls out a small bundle of Polariods. A small gasp escapes his throat.</p><p>There, in the photo, alongside himself, Jon, Martin, is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. A woman with gorgeous, brown skin, and long, dark hair falling over her shoulders. She's the same height as he is, with dark eyes, round glasses, and a beautiful smile. So playful, soulful, sweet.</p><p>Tim blinks, realizing his cheeks are hot with tears again. She was perfect. She was so amazing. His heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest.</p><p>“I’m sorry Sasha, I’m so sorry," he whispers, throat hoarce with tears. His room mocked him in empty silence. He couldn't sort his emotions, he couldn't hear his thoughts. Grief, love, anger; they all roared in his mind.</p><p>He was going to tear the Stranger apart. It didn't deserve to exist as long as Sasha didn't. It took Danny. It took Sasha. And now he was going to take it.</p><p>Gently, he kisses the photo, and hangs it up in his mirror. "I'll see you soon, my love." he murmurs, a numb smile on his face, and sweeps out of the room.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm sorry that was so depressing!!</p><p>Please check out my other works in the TimSasha Chronicles to cheer yourself up, hah!</p><p>All kudos and comments make me go EEE!!!!</p><p>Have an amazing one! :) Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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